Clarity
by my-graceless-heart
Summary: Allison and Lydia are thieves looking to pull off the biggest heist in history only to discover that Scott and Stiles have been there first. FBI agent Derek Hale and his crack team of agents (Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and newbie agent Cora) are trying to hunt them down, but the thieves always seem to stay one step ahead of them. Too bad the thieves can't help but run into each other.
1. Chapter 1

Allison Argent was the best of the best. She knew every trick of the trade: bypassing laser tripwires, the best way to rappel down through a skylight, and the exact type of guard that was susceptible to long eyelashes and a coy smile. She and her partner Lydia had never missed a grad, never lost a mark, and that was why watching that bastard skip away with her piece was _so damn annoying_.

He grinned at her, wide and white under his night vision goggles before something on his belt beeped and he took off back down the hall. "Oh no you don't," she hissed, sprinting after him. Those emeralds were hers. They spent upwards of three months planning this heist. Thousands of dollars spent on forging documents to get them an invitation to castle in the first place so they could case the place, then another month flirting with that creepy Duke Lyon to check out the security. Which, of course, was unbelievably tight, but nothing they hadn't encountered before. Cracking the uncrackable vault where all of the valuables (naturally) were was Allison's specialty, and guaranteed to put them in the history books. Now that creep beat her to it. Gritting her teeth, she pushed her legs just a bit further and tackled him.

They tumbled to the floor, the emeralds spinning out of his grip. She pushed herself up and lunged for them, but a hand closed over her ankle and she lurched back to the floor. "Ah, ah, ah," the smug bastard wagged his finger at her, picking the necklace up again. "Thieves' code. I was here first. It's my take."

"Like hell," she spat. "Do you know how long we've been planning this?"

He shrugged. "Nope. It's none of my business. But these," he jerked the necklace up out of the way when she lunged up for it. "Are mine." He grinned again. "Not that I don't mind the full body contact."

A warm heat snaked around her waist, and she was suddenly, acutely aware of how little space there was between their bodies. "Let go of me," she said quietly.

His arm tightened, and she moved to grab his wrist, snap his arm like she was trained to years ago, but he was gone. A window stood open on the other side of the hall, one that led to the cliff side of the castle. The side that Lydia had deemed "too dangerous" to use as an entry/escape route, even though it was a faster way in and out. She huffed out a sigh, flinger her arms up in the air as she turned back to the vault. The emeralds might be long gone, but there were still some gems back there she could fence.

A last flash of moonlight illuminated the door of the vault, flashing off something that wasn't there before. She stepped closer, peering at it in the gloom. A black wolf paw was stuck on the titanium alloy, a sticker she knew would be impossible to trace from its generic origins, and its familiar shape sent her heart sinking into her stomach.

"Allison?" her com crackled to life, Lydia contacting her after five minutes of radio silence like they agreed. "Are you there? Did you get the emeralds?"

"No," Allison replied, trying to get some moisture back into her throat. "The Wolf got here first."

* * *

"What do you mean there was no trace left?" he could feel the pressure building up behind his eyes that would inevitably lead to another headache brought on by his useless team.

"I mean, they left no trace," Cora repeated, shrugging. "There never has been before. Why would the Wolf slip up now?"

"Did you double check?" he asked slowly, like he was speaking with a five year old. "Or did you cut corners?"

She scoffed. "Come on, Derek. I might be a new agent, but I'm not stupid."

"We are not at home, Agent Hale," he snapped. "Here you call me 'sir', or 'Agent Hale.'"

"Considering there are two of us, I would think 'Agent Hale' might get a little confusing," she smiled sweetly, like poisoned honey. "Sir."

He heard a snort of laughter from the next room, where no doubt the rest of his team were listening in. "You're dismissed, Agent Hale." She nodded cordially, spinning on her heel to retreat into the squad room, brown ponytail swinging. He slumped back into his chair with a sigh, digging the heel of his hand into his eyes. It was how long, now? Two years? The Wolf broke onto the scene with one of the splashiest thefts the world had ever seen: snatching up a diamond-encrusted corset worth millions from the Field Museum. It was the local leos' job to nab him, until a similar heist in New York later that year was executed flawlessly and the same tag was left at both scenes: a black wolf paw, stuck on whatever case or vault the Wolf had managed to crack. Then, Derek Hale, rising star in the FBI's Major Thefts division was assigned to the case and given three agents to hunt this guy down and put him behind bars.

As one could assume by the international nature of this latest theft, it wasn't going too well.

He shoved his chair back with an irritated sigh and stalked out into the squad room. "Lahey!" he barked at the lanky blond lazing about on Cora's desk. "Report."

"Much like previous scenes, sir," he said, snapping upright. "No evidence pointing to who the Wolf may be, or how he got in and out." Derek sighed, turning to the other two members of his team, hoping they might have found something by combing over the past thefts when Isaac pointedly cleared his throat. "I wasn't finished." Frowning, Derek turned back. "There was evidence, however, of a second person at the scene," Isaac pulled a photograph out with a flourish and stuck it on the board. In the fuzzy image of the Duke's hallway security camera, it was very clear that there were not one, but two people grappling in the moonlight.

"Do we have idea who this second person is?" Derek asked, not expecting any good answers.

"She actually left less evidence than the Wolf," Erica broke in, leaning against her own desk and crossing her legs in a way that made her obscenely short skirt seem even shorter. "Not even a calling card. With multiple pieces being taken from the vault, we don't even know who took what."

"She?" Derek turned to stare at his agent.

She shrugged. "Yeah, it's obvious. Why else would he molest her like that?"

"Let me get this straight," he stepped forward until he was nose-to-nose with her. "You have known whether or not the Wolf was male or female for the duration of this assignment, and you haven't thought to share?"

"I assumed you knew," She replied, matching his gaze. "Isn't that what you muscle-bound agent types do? Because of course, no _girl_ could pull off heists like this. Except," she strutted past him, tapping a perfect nail on the picture. "Now we have one."

"One of the pieces taken was a sixteenth century emerald necklace," Boyd added, moving around her and adding a picture of the necklace to the growing list of taken items. "I've got my contacts in the black market keeping an eye out for it. We'll get a red flag if they spot it."

"They won't." Derek turned back to his office. "He'll strip the pieces and sell the jewels individually. Tell them to keep an eye out for high quality emeralds instead." A chorus of "Yes, sir" followed him into his office, where a tall glass of water, migraine medication, and another impossible case file waited for him.

* * *

"It seems a shame to take them apart," Lydia said, admiring the huge sapphire ring on her finger. "They're so pretty."

"Lydia…" Allison warned.

The redhead sighed and tugged the ring off. "Fine. I don't see why we can't keep at least one piece though."

"How about because they're the results of an international jewel heist that happened to make national television?" Allison replied, working the tiny pliers around the prongs of the ruby choker she had managed to snag in the few minutes before the alarm system had kicked back in. The ring, the choker, and an opal bracelet that Lydia was now trying on were all she got. They weren't sixteenth century emeralds, but it was still a couple million dollars worth of jewels spread out across the table in their tiny hotel room. "Or were you too busy with your new boy toy to notice?"

"Excuse me," Lydia dropped her hand to glare at the brunette. "Aidan is a man toy, thank you very much."

Allison grinned, the pliers finally freeing one of the rubies from the choker. "Aha!" she captured the gem before it bounced onto the floor and added it to the small pile in the center of the table. "Four down, ten to go. Can you get started on the ring?"

Lydia frowned. 'I just got a manicure, though." She waggled her fingers in Allison's face. "See? Besides," she said, lounging back against the couch. "I'm the brains of this operation. You're the one that does all the heavy lifting." Allison opened her mouth. "And yes, I already contacted a smelter and flirted enough to get him to melt down these settings for free. You're welcome for that."

"What about your fence?" Allison asked. "These jewels are still hot. Is he insane enough to take them?"

Lydia shrugged. "He's insane enough to take anything. Wants to meet us tomorrow, actually."

"Tomorrow?" Allison stared down at the choker in her hands, then at the ring and bracelet. "You've got to be kidding me. I'll be up all night making that deadline."

"No you won't." Lydia leaned forward, her arms folded in the way calculated to show just the right amount of cleavage. "He just wants the rubies. That way, you can stay up all night doing more fun things. Aiden told me he has a twin."

"No thank you," Allison turned her attention back to the choker. "I'd rather not have a one night stand with your man toy."

"Not my man toy. Your man toy."

"Who happens to look exactly like your man toy. No thank you."

"Boring," Lydia flopped back against the couch again. Allison stuck her tongue out at her friend before going back to the choker.

Whether or not the fence only wanted the rubies, it was still going to be a very long night.

* * *

The first thing Allison noticed when going to meet the fence was the smell in the air. It was the same mix of garbage and urine that coated every alley of any big city in America, but somehow it seemed calculated. A perfect ratio of trash to piss that would deter any normal civilians going about their day, but not rank enough for any homeless to hide there. And of course, as soon as they entered the run-down looking building where the meet was to take place, they were transported to something akin to a plastic surgeon's office. "Oh, he's redone the place," was all Lydia said as she crossed the room to knock on the door. First three times, then twice, then five times. Allison just stared around her in mild disbelief. Sure, she had been a thief for a while and fences were old news, but this was the first one who insisted on any sort of professionalism. Lydia swore up and down that he was the best for this kind of thing, so it was only with mild apprehension that she followed her friend through the door.

The first thing she noticed was an abrupt dimming of the lights in the narrow hallway beyond the door. The second was a rather nervous looking man about her age fiddling with something at the other end of the hall. "Excuse me," Lydia said in her best you're-in-my-way voice. "What are you doing here?"

The guy made a weird sort of twitch that could have been a shrug. "Selling stuff. Isn't that what you do at a fence?" he shoved his hands into his pockets, looking at them expectantly.

Allison didn't answer, looking him over. He was skinny, probably didn't weigh very much, and he held himself like a computer geek. Not a thief. How on earth could he have gotten his hands on anything to sell to a fence like this? According to Lydia, he only dealt in material items, not information. The door behind him opened, and he whirled to greet the guy that came out. "Come on man, let's get outta here," the guy said. "We've got what we need, so-" he stopped, staring at Allison.

Something in her brain clicked, matching the jawline with the one that grinned infuriatingly at her not a week ago and waltzed out a window with her emeralds. "You!"

"Uh," he said, shrinking back against the door as she swung at him. He caught her arm just before it connected. She swung with her other arm, and he caught that one too, twisting them down behind her back and pressing her against the wall. "Please stop," he asked, sounding sincere enough. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You took my emeralds!" she growled, trying to jerk her arms free from the vice-like grip. They didn't budge.

"Actually, since he was there first, they were his," the skinny one broke in, gesturing at the guy that had her pinned. "Thieves' code and all that. I'll… I'll stop," he trailed off as Allison glared at him.

"I am sorry for taking them," the guy said, his breath warm in her ear as he held her pinned against the wall. "But I did get there first." She relaxed a bit, and his grip slackened. Quick as a snake strike, she broke his grip and whipped a foot behind her, knocking him on the ground.

"You think that's an excuse?" she asked, kneeling on his chest.

He grinned sheepishly, the expression softening his face in the dim light. "Um. Yes?"

"Allison, we're not here to flirt," Lydia reminded her, tapping her nails against wall.

"I wasn't-!" she exclaimed, jerking upright.

"Oh, so you weren't just rubbing yourself all over my buddy here," the skinny one chimed in.

"He pinned me!" Allison protested, but she could tell it was in vain. Lydia had that glint in her eye when she wasn't going to let something go easily, and the skinny guy was grinning like a demented frog. A hand fell on her shoulder, making her jump.

"It's okay," the guy said. "Let them have their fun." She eyed him warily. She hadn't even noticed him get up, which was rare for her. He stuck his hand out. "I'm Scott."

"Allison," she replied, but didn't take his hand.

"Yeah, I gathered," he smiled, gesturing at Lydia. "So, here to sell some jewels?"

"Same as you," she agreed, still wary.

His shoulders slumped a bit as his cheery façade vanished. "Look," he said, honesty written all over his face. "I really am sorry about those emeralds. If I had known you were after them, I would have taken something else. I know how much planning it took to get in there. Having all that ripped out from underneath you… It must not have been fun."

"No," she crossed her arms, "it wasn't."

"It really wasn't," Lydia butted in. "Those emeralds would have really set off my eyes, you know? Plus it made hacking the motion sensors around it a complete waste of time."

"Whoa, you hacked the motion sensors?" the skinny guy gasped. "That's crazy! I'm Stiles, by the way…" and just like that, he and Lydia were off, technobabble flowing like mud. Allison rolled her eyes, turning back to Scott to see him holding out a hand.

"Friends?" he asked, a smile blooming hesitantly on his face. "I promise I won't get in the way of any more of your jobs."

She studied him, eyes tracing over the lines of his face. It didn't seem like there was any deception hidden there, but… well, she had been wrong before. "Not friends," she said, but she shook his hand anyway. His smile grew, crinkling the edges of his eyes and she forced herself to look away. All the stories she had heard of the Wolf, and none of them ever said he was, well, attractive. When he grinned, it stretched a jawline that male models would kill for, and lit up eyes that melted like dark chocolate in the pit of her stomach. He was short for a guy, but still a few inches taller than her, and two thick, black bands circled his left bicep, stretching around the muscle.

"No way, that was you?" Stiles' voice broke into her reverie, and she thankfully turned towards the sound. "The Beacon Hills bank job. You're kidding."

"Nope," Lydia smiled like the cat that got the cream. "Took a month of planning, but it was so worth it. We're still living off that money."

"I can imagine," he stared at her with nothing short of awe on his face. "Sixteen million in one go. Scott!" he spun to face the pair of him. "We got showed up by a couple of girls!"

"I dunno about that," Allison shrugged. "The Wolf has pulled off some crazy jobs." Scott grinned at her and she tried very hard not to blush.

"That was actually mostly Stiles," he said, scratching his head. "He's the brains. I just do the heavy lifting." Lydia raised an eyebrow at Allison, who made a face in return. Then, the door behind them opened.

"Are you going to stand in my hallway all day, or are we going to deal?" a lazy voice drawled through the opening.

"Sorry Peter!" Lydia sailed through the door, winning smile on her face. "We got distracted by your other guests." Allison followed, chancing one last glance over her shoulder at the retreating pair. Her gaze was met with a pair of dark chocolate eyes, and she hurriedly looked away.

Peter Hale's center of operations was as unexpected as the rest of the place. Other fences they had worked with hid out in dingy warehouses or motels, and their deals were often made with rats or cockroaches as onlookers. By a contrast so sharp Allison could have cut herself, Peter's office was sleek and modern, with the sort of uncomfortable chairs you might find in a stockbroker's office and a desk that could have easily passed for a starship. "Miss Argent," he greeted her smoothly. "Please, sit down." She sat down next to Lydia, who was already seated as to perfectly show off both her legs and torso. "Now, I understand that you have some rubies that need selling."

"That's right," Lydia replied, matching his professional tone. "They're high quality. Eighteenth century at the latest, and Macedonian in origin. They are all pure spectral hues of red, with very few hints of any secondary tones. Worth at least five million all together."

"Indeed," he agreed, peering at the gems she spread out across his desk. "I know of a few people here in Los Angeles that would love to get their hands on some of these. I can easily get ten million for the set."

"Naturally, we get eighty percent of the sale," Lydia folded her hands in her lap as she spoke, calm and cool. Allison kept quiet. This was Lydia's specialty, not hers.

His gaze snapped up. "Fifty percent."

She laughed. "You're a fence, not a partner. If we need to, we can find another. Seventy five percent to us, twenty five to you."

"You say you can find another, and yet you came to me," his hands spread out like a corrupt businessman offering them the deal that would ruin their careers. "I can only assume that you're desperate."

"These gems are still hot," Allison broke in. "We came to you because you can sell them. Or was that stretching the truth?"

He looked at her curiously, and she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Fence or not, those were the eyes of a madman. "Brave," he laughed suddenly, loud and carefree. "I like you. Seventy to you, thirty to me."

"Done," Lydia agreed, pulling the contract she drew up out of her bag. He flipped through it, making sure the terms were the same, then placed a carefully scrawled signature at the bottom. "Pleasure doing business with you," she said sweetly, getting up. "Come on, Allison. We have shoes to buy."

It was only with great restraint that Allison resisted rolling her eyes. She followed her friend out, catching one last glance of the insane fence Peter Hale behind them. The madness stood stark on his face, a twisted darkness to match the alley outside. It seemed the office was just another mask for him to hide behind.

The only fence insane enough.

Right.

Lydia chattered on as they made their way back out of the building and into a nicer part of town. Allison only listened with half an ear, as she usually did when they were walking through a big city alone. Granted, it was normally just the two of them when they were walking, but having just pulled off a big heist, she was especially paranoid.

"… and that Scott guy was cute, wasn't he?" Lydia asked as they got on the bus.

"What?" Allison's attention snapped to her friend.

"Scott," Lydia repeated, a coy smile curling around her lips. "He's awfully cute. Or didn't you notice when you two were rolling about on the floor?"

"We were _not _ rolling about on the floor!" Allison exclaimed, drawing the attention of several people nearby. She shot an apologetic glance around before turning back to Lydia. "We weren't!" she hissed.

The redhead shrugged. "All right. I won't tell you how he was staring at you then."

"I- wha?" Allison wavered, caught off guard. "How was he staring at me?"

"Like you were the Elizabeth Bennet to his Mr. Darcy," she replied, fixing her hair in the bus window reflection.

"Pride and Prejudice? Really?"

Lydia shrugged, unperturbed. "It fits."

Allison shook her head. "Maybe Peter isn't the only insane one," she muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sir, we've got a red flag in Beverly Hills," Boyd stuck his head into Derek's office.

Instantly, he was out of his chair and striding out into the squad room. "On what?"

"Rubies," Erica replied, sticking a pin into the map of the country stretched out on one wall. Other pins marked where other gems from the Wolf's job had turned up, but so far none of them had led to any leads. "A few jewelry dealers have gotten their hands on rubies of an unparalleled quality. None of them will say where they've gotten them, though."

"All right," Derek nodded. "Agent Hale," Cora's head snapped up from where she was bent over a case file. "Get packed. We're going to LA."

* * *

"So why me?" she asked later on the plane.

"You want to be a field agent. You need field experience for that," he replied, settling back into his seat with the latest Dan Brown novel.

"And if I cock it all up?" suddenly, she sounded very small. Derek looked down at her and saw the scared seventeen year old that had wandered back into his life after six years.

"Cora," he let himself smile, just a bit. "You're my little sister. You're going to cock up." Her face fell, and he ruffled her hair. "What matters is what you do after you cock up."

She smiled too, then nudged his arm. "It's weird hearing you say the word 'cock'."

"You think it's weird for you? I'm the one getting to hear it coming out of my little sister's mouth," he shook his head in disbelief.

"Speaking of," she tapped her chin in a way that could mean nothing good. "What do you think of Isaac?"

"No way in hell," Derek automatically replied.

She actually pouted. "Why?"

"No office romance," he said, the tone of his voice letting her no that the conversation was over.

She shrugged. "Well, I won't be a probie for much longer and I'll be in a different division after that. I'll just wait until then."

"Cora!" he spluttered, having just taken a sip of his water.

She smiled prettily up at him, all innocence and evil thoughts. "Yes Derek?"

"No," he shook his head. "Just no."

* * *

"The man we're looking for is a fence who goes by the name 'Alpha.' He deals almost exclusively in things other fences won't touch," Derek paced at the front of the room, fifteen other agents waiting for his orders. "That, naturally, makes him a prime option for the Wolf to fence those jewels. The rubies recovered by Agent Hale match the description of those in the choker taken from Duke Lyon's vault," he allowed himself to feel a small flash of pride for Cora- she really stepped up with the jewelry dealers, doing some of the best undercover work he had ever seen. "Two agents will contact him as thieves looking to sell. The moment we have confirmation, move in."

"Sir," an agent in the back of the room spoke up. "Who will be going undercover?"

"I'll be leading the reverse myself," Derek replied, clasping his hands behind him. "I've worked with many fences over the years. I know how they operate. My probationary agent, Agent Hale, will be accompanying me. She needs the field experience, and going by how she held herself with getting answers out of the jewel dealers, I think she's the best choice." She beamed at him from her place at the side of the room, and he gave her a small nod in reply. "The word to move in will be 'business.' Don't forget, you'll be arresting me and Agent Hale in addition to Alpha. That way, we keep our cover and can use it later on if needed." He took the proffered hidden mike and clipped the pin to his jacket. Cora nodded at him, and he waved at the agents as they left the room. "See you on the other side of this."

"So you really think we can get him to flip?" she asked as they made their way down a filthy back alley.

"I think it doesn't hurt to try," he replied, knocking on the door three times, then twice, then five times. It swung open, and they slipped inside, making their way through a surprisingly neat room to a dimmer hallway. Cora raised her hand at the door on the other end, then hesitated. Derek gave her a nod and she knocked.

"Enter," an eerily familiar voice said. Derek felt his pulse quicken as he pushed past Cora, ignoring her cry of protest. He knew that voice, and he'd be damned if he didn't find out who it was. "Ah," his uncle said, looking up from his desk as his stomach had a quick introduction to his toes. "Derek. What a surprise." Peter stood up, walking around the desk with arms open wide. Derek stiffened as he was enveloped in a hug. "And Cora too! What a pleasure to finally see both of you." Derek felt his teeth grit together as Peter hugged her too. Briefly, he wondered what the agents listening in must be thinking of the whole exchange before pushing it out of his head and putting on his best nephew smile.

"I didn't know you were Alpha," he said as Peter sat back at his desk.

"Of course you didn't," his uncle smiled, wide and wolfish. "I don't make it a habit of sharing my illegal activities with my FBI nephew."

Oh.

Well, shit.

"So you know then," Derek tried not to grit his teeth again, but it was awfully tempting.

"My dear boy, I've known since you first applied to the academy," Peter pulled a sucker out of his desk and slowly unwrapped it. "And of course, I've been eagerly following little Cora's progress," he waved the sucker at her in some sort of mock salute before sticking it in his mouth. "Congratulations on the test scores. I hear they were exceptionally high."

"All right, that's enough," Derek snapped, grabbing the front of Peter's shirt and hauling him up over the desk. "Who is the Wolf and where can we find him?"

Infuriatingly, his uncle merely shrugged. "I couldn't tell you. I don't make it a habit to know clients' personal information."

"Then give us the description of the person who brought the rubies in," Cora said, seemingly unfazed by the discovery that her uncle was a fence for high end thefts. "That way, you aren't giving out any personal information, and we could have always gotten it from one of the security cameras in the Duke's mansion."

"Ooh," Peter's eyes narrowed in appreciation. "I see why you wanted her on your team, Derek. She's better than you are." Snarling in annoyance, Derek threw him back against the chair, but he just laughed. "If you ever want a job, dear," he said, addressing Cora, "just let me know."

She made a face, pulling out her notepad. "A description, if you please?"

"Very well," He leaned back, propping his feet up on the desk. "There were two of them, actually. Girls. One light haired, one dark haired. Very pretty. Very smart, too. A fence could get used to working with people like them."

"Is this a joke?" Derek shook his head. He should have seen this coming. He knew Peter was batshit crazy, but now it was certain. "The Wolf is male."

Peter shrugged, the grin back on his face. "You didn't ask for his description. You asked for the ones who brought in the rubies. They did, not him."

"Derek," Cora said, snagging his arm just before he took a swing. "There were two people that robbed the Duke, remember? One of them was female."

"So?" he growled, fixed on that bastard's grin.

"So, we can go after them too. It's still our division," she jerked his arm, forcing him to look at her. "Or are you so fixated on this guy that you can't go after anyone else?"

He stared at her for a long moment, letting her words sink in. Was he obsessed with the Wolf? He'd been chasing him for two years. Two years, where every one of his actions was dictated by one of the thief's, and everything else had slowly faded away. Catching him had long since careened past normal assignment duty into a life goal. His mentor had fallen into a trap just like it. She was the Director's sister, so obsessed with catching a serial arsonist that had struck and killed people across multiple states that she became one herself in the end. That arrest hadn't been pretty.

"Okay," he finally said, settling into the chair across the desk from Peter. "Tell us about these girls."

* * *

"Whoa, Scott," Stiles scrambled to sit upright and whacked his shoulder. "Look." He pointed at the TV. "Those girls we met are on TV."

"Whaaat?" Scott swung his head around and froze. Detailed drawings of Allison and Lydia stared back at him, along with an annoyingly well-coiffed broadcaster describing exactly what they had done to land them on the news. "Shit," he swore, grabbing for his phone.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Stiles asked as he tapped in a number. Scott shushed him and waited for the other end to pick up.

"What do you want now?" the voice drawled, tinny through the earpiece.

"Isaac, you have to stop the investigation into those girls," he replied, trying not to bite the end of his words.

"In case you haven't notice, Scott, it's my job to catch thieves," his longtime friend replied, somehow managing to sound simultaneously sarcastic and caring. "You're lucky it's not your face up there. Using Derek's uncle as your fence? Are you insane?"

"He contacted us, all right?" Scott leaned forward, trying to catch what the reporter was saying. "You have to take the bolo off them."

"I can't. Not without good reason. You know that."

"Not even for me?"

"No," his tone was so serious, even Scott had to admit that he wasn't going to budge.

"Fine," Scott sighed. "Then can you do me a favor instead?"

"What?" Isaac sounded wary, and rightfully so. The last time Scott asked for a favor, it ended up derailing Derek's investigation for half a year.

"If you get a tip, let me know before passing it on?" he asked, putting just the right amount of puppy-dog-please in his voice. Too much, and Isaac would call him on it. Too little, and it wouldn't work.

There was a long pause. "Fine," Isaac finally said, letting out the word in a whoosh of breath. "But what do I get in return?"

"Eternal gratitude?"

"Give him a kiss!" Stiles called from where he eavesdropped on the couch.

"Shut up," Scott tossed his way before turning back to the phone. "I can give you a cut of our profit."

"I'm not taking bribes, Scott," Isaac said, words landing heavily in his ear. "Just promise me that you'll retire soon. All right?"

"Fine," Scott sighed again, both of them knowing that he would probably end up in prison before he retired. "I'll retire soon. Just let me know any tips you get, all right?"

"Yeah, sure," his friend suddenly sounded bored, a sure sign that another member of his team was in the room.

"Thank you. You won't be sorry," Scott promised, then hung up.

"So, why the sudden interest?" Stiles asked in his best mom-like tone.

Scott gave him a pointed look. "You know you sound nothing like my mom, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles waved the words away, perching on the back of the couch to stare at him expectantly. "You've never been interested in any other teams until now. Why this one?"

"I dunno," Scott replied, knowing exactly why. Her perfume still clung to him, light and flowery.

"Liar," Stiles grinned. "It's that girl, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Scott shrugged, turning back to his book.

"It is her!" Stiles fell back laughing. "The great Wolf, brought down by a girl. Too funny."

"I haven't been 'brought down'," Scott shot back, annoyance creeping over him. "She just… intrigues me."

"Intrigues, intoxicates, turns on…" Stiles started to list.

Scott threw a pillow at him. "Shut up."

Stiles only grinned as he went back to his show. Scott opened his book again, trying to ignore the phantom brush of dark curls against his face. But she was still there, a wide grin hiding in the soft lines of her mouth as she dropped him. There weren't many that could do that. He could count the times he'd been forced onto his back on one hand, but this girl did it as easily as breathing. Literally swept off his feet. He had to chuckle at the thought. Still, the feel of her under him, the lithe muscles in her arms tensing as she tried to shake him off haunted his hands. Girls in this business were rare enough. Attractive ones were a treasure.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his daydream. A text from Isaac flashed across the screen, sending Scott to his feet. "Stiles," he snapped, his friend jerking around to listen. "Get your stuff. We're moving."

"What? Why?" Stiles asked, scrambling to his feet, but Scott wasn't listening. Lydia had just been spotted shopping in Malibu, Allison in tow. It was time to move.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I was honestly not expecting it to be this long. It was just a plot bunny! How did it end up like this? (*muffled Killers music plays in the distance*)

* * *

Store after store, as more bags piled up on Lydia's arms. Allison sighed as she followed her friend into yet another store. Lydia always had a shopping spree after a successful job- according to her, they deserved it. It was one of the few things they agreed on, though going to so many places in one trip had to be one of Lydia's super powers. Something was off about this trip, though. The last few stores they were in, the employees looked distinctly uncomfortable. There was whispering and pointing, and a few of them had even tried to stop the girls from leaving. Something was definitely up.

So, at the next store, she grabbed an employee and asked, as sweetly as possible of course, "Why is everyone staring at us?"

"Uh," was all he said, but the darting of his eyes over to the TV in the corner was all Allison needed to know.

"Shit," she breathed, catching sight of her own face on the screen, followed by Lydia's. "Lydia," she said, grabbing her friend's arm.

"What?" Lydia asked, pulling her arm out of Allison's grip. She saw the screen and blanched. "Shit."

"Yeah. We gotta go," Allison started pulling her towards the exit. Lydia followed, tripping slightly over her heels.

"Wait," she snapped, wobbling dangerously. "Allison, wait," she jerked her friend's arm, pulling them both to a stop. "Where are we going to go? They know what we look like. We can't just go back to our hotel and hide out."

"We left the rest of the jewels there," Allison replied.

"So some maid is going to have a really great day," Lydia shot back. "We need somewhere else to go."

"Can we help?" Stiles asked, popping out from behind a bush.

"What the hell?!" Allison snapped, pulling her hand back from where it automatically jerked out to hit him.

"Hang on," he held up a finger, ignoring her as he tapped a message out on his phone. "You know," he said, pocketing the phone and staring at them with an I-can't-believe-I'm-actually-doing-this expression. "Going out shopping when you're the subject of an international manhunt is not the best idea."

"Considering we didn't know that we were being hunted, I don't think you can blame us," Allison shot back, crossing her arms. "And how did you find us, anyway?"

"I looked," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Now, come one. We've got a safe house you guys can borrow."

"Whoa, whoa," Lydia held up a hand, an impressive feat considering how many bags were on her arm. "You want us to come with you? Did you stop and think that there is a very short list of people who could have sold us out, and you happen to be at the very top?"

"Well, we didn't," he rolled his eyes. "I can't believe Scott thought this was a good idea."

"Wait, this was Scott's idea?" Allison broke in, ignoring the warm fluttering that suddenly broke out in her stomach.

"Yeah," Stiles shrugged. "He even called his friend in the FBI to make sure you guys didn't get busted. They're probably already on their way here, seeing how you've been parading about shopping," he waved his hands about. "So will you please hurry up? I really don't want to be here when you get arrested."

"Fine," Lydia swept past him, nose in the air. "I hope the security on your safe house is up to my standards."

"Oh, it is," said Stiles, his chest inflating a bit. "Top of the line surveillance. Have to have the best, you know?"

"Mmm," Lydia considered it for a moment. "No." Stiles spluttered, mouth hanging open and arms waving about as he followed. Allison trailed behind them, only half listening. Scott's idea. His grin clenched in her stomach, following a glittering trail of green through the air. She shouldn't feel so happy about this. He took her piece, showed her up, then when they met again at the fence... She shook her head. They used the same fence. She couldn't believe it. Sure, Peter was the only one in LA insane enough to take jewels that hot, but there was an entire country between LA and the Duke's castle in Scotland. When they were done with all of this, she would have words with Lydia about finding a new fence. Or, about changing cities. Sure, LA was great, but so was New York. Or Boston. Allison could get behind Boston, and there were enough coeds to keep Lydia happy for at least a year. And there were no dark heads and wide, white smiles to fog her head and make her miss something, like she clearly had. Otherwise, they wouldn't be on the run from the FBI now.

"Stiles!" the one voice she didn't want to hear called over the crowd. A waving arm appeared briefly by the bus stop, and Lydia and Stiles unfortunately headed that direction. Allison sucked in a girding breath and followed them.

* * *

A wave of relief washed over Scott as he spotted Stiles' shaved head bobbing behind a redheaded girl, followed by a brunette. "Stiles!" he yelled, hopping briefly on the bench and waving. The woman next to him gave him a dirty look as he hopped down. "Sorry," he grinned at her, but she only rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Stiles tells me this was your idea," Lydia announced without preamble, her tone slightly accusing.

"Uh. Yeah," Scott leaned forward, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Is that an issue?"

"No," she tossed her hair. "But that means you get to carry my bags." His vision suddenly filled with layers of plastic and cardboard, handles dangling precariously from fingertips. He instinctively grabbed at them to keep them from falling, and Lydia sauntered away to the bus, hands now free of everything she had been holding.

"Stiles?" Scott hoped he didn't sound too pleading.

"Nope," his friend followed Lydia, humming cheerfully.

"Here," a new voice said, taking the bags out of his left hand. A small whiff of perfume drifted over him as Allison rearranged the ones she held so they were in both hands. "One person shouldn't carry all of it."

"Does she always buy this much?" Scott asked, barely squeezing onto the bus next to her.

"Only after a big job," Allison replied, and Scott got the impression that she was purposely not looking at him. "She says she deserves it. Which, she does. I'd never get anywhere without her-" the bus jostled, and they both stumbled as the floor shifted. Scott caught himself just short of running into her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, startled by her sudden nearness, brown curls falling in a soft halo around her face.

"I'm fine," she replied, biting off the end of the sentence, still not looking at him.

"Did I do something wrong?" the question popped out of his mouth, and she (finally!) looked at him, her soft brown eyes unreadable.

"You're a thief," she said, as though that was an explanation.

"So are you," he shrugged. "Is that a problem?"

"Why do we keep running into each other?" she asked, rather than answering.

"Fate, maybe?"

"Fate doesn't exist."

He had to smile. "According to a few forums on the internet, I don't exist."

A grin began to tug at the edges of her lips. "Really? You're basing your argument on internet forums?"

"Well," he leaned back, trying to still the flip-flop of his stomach. "They're entertaining, at least."

She shook her head, hiding the curve of her lips behind a curtain of hair. "You're ridiculous."

"But it made you smile," he said, almost without thinking. Her head shot up, smile vanishing, and she stared at him for a long moment. He swallowed, feeling the heat creep up his neck as she stared.

"I suppose," she said after a long moment, her forehead creasing. She looked back out the window, sinking a sudden, strange feeling of loss into his stomach.

* * *

"This is a safe house?" Lydia asked, barely bothering to conceal the tone of disgust in her voice. "Does it even count as a house?"

Allison had to agree. The building was practically crumbling, slightly charred wood around the edges of the frame showing it had been in a fire some time ago. Fresh paint on the door and a newer looking roof improved it somewhat, but it still gave off the distinct impression of dereliction and disuse.

"Hey, don't complain," Stiles jumped up the stairs and rapped on the door. "It's never failed us before. Hey Deaton," he pushed past the guy that opened the door. "Brought some friends."

"So I see," the man said, peering down his nose at the girls. Allison shifted nervously under the weight of his gaze, feeling like he was seeing a lot more than she wanted him to. "I take it I'm free for the night, then?"

"Yep," Stiles' voice echoed back out of the house. "Go nuts."

Deaton laughed. "Yes, I'm sure I will." He jogged down the steps, nodding at the girls and Scott as he passed. "Have a good night."

"See ya, Doc," Scott waved, nearly shaking one of the bags loose. "Oh, crap-!" He and Allison caught it at the same time, their fingertips barely brushing.

"Sorry," she stepped back, willing her fingers to stop tingling. She wasn't seventeen anymore. This crush, or whatever it was, was stupid, and she was done with it. "Lydia," she went to link arms with her friend instead. "Do you have anything in those bags that might fit me? I get the feeling we're going to be here for a while."

"Mmm, maybe," the redhead shrugged as they sailed up the steps into the house. "Whether or not I'll let you wear them in this house, though," her nose wrinkled at the worn furniture, the peeling wallpaper, and the cracked floorboards in the corner that let a curling vie up into the room, "is a different story."

"We've got clothes you can borrow if you need to," Scott said, depositing the bags in a corner of what apparently passed for the living room.

"No," Lydia gingerly picked her way around him. "I'm going to see if the upstairs is just as gross. Keep Allison busy, would you?"

"Lydia!" Allison tried to follow her, but she was long gone, picking her way up creaky steps, Stiles in tow.

"So," Scott said, leaning against the couch.

"So," Allison agreed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" he asked after a long moment.

"What?"

He shuffled his feet, looking down a bit. "At the fence's place. You dropped me like it was nothing."

"Yeah, so?" she asked, not quite seeing where this was going.

"I can count the number of people that have done that on one hand," he said, looking at her from under his lashes. A shy smile danced across his face. "And none of them were girls."

"What does being a girl have to do with it?" Allison levered herself off the wall, facing him squarely. "I could do it again just as easily."

"Oh really?" he pushed himself off the couch, mimicking her stance. "You think you could?"

"I know I could," she cocked her head to one side, allowing a small grin to escape. "Or are you scared of losing to a girl?"

"I'm scared of hurting you," he said, in that bluntly honest way he had. It seemed to be a trend of his, speaking the truth in such a way that it sent shivers up her neck.

So, she let herself grin a little wider and uncrossed her arms. "You won't."

He half-smiled himself, rolling forward onto the balls of his feet. They just watched each other for a moment, the space of a held breath. Then, he swung forward, arm whipping up in a strike that would have caught someone slower. Allison blocked, flicking a kick at his midsection, he jumped back, dropping to sweep a foot under her. She sprung over it, backhanding him in the face. His head snapped back from the blow, a small spot of blood seeping from a split lip. He wiped it off, grinning. "You're fantastic," he said, shaking his head in astonishment. She let herself have a moment to preen, which he promptly took to throw another punch at her. When she blocked, though, he twisted and grabbed her arm, wrapping it around his own and bending her down. "Do you give?" he asked, half-jokingly.

"Not a chance," she snapped her head back, catching the edge of his chin. His grip loosened and she bounded away, falling back into a karate form like her lessons were just yesterday. She felt herself actually smiling now, enjoying herself. She hadn't had a really good fight in a while, and she wasn't about to deny that a tussle with an attractive guy was fun. "Come on, then."

He shook his head, a smile growing on his own face. Suddenly, he snapped forward, faster than before. It took one, two, three strikes and she was down, flat on her back on the floor with Scott on top of her. "Do you give now?" he asked, breath warm against her face. Her throat constricted at the contact, his hands pinning her arms over her head, the heat of his body felt all down the length of hers. It was closer than she had been to any guy in… well, months. After that fight, it was all she could do to stop her hips from rising and fitting to his.

"Why don't you get off me and find out?" she finally said, finding her voice beneath the breathless flood of want that swamped her. He grinned instead, eyes flicking down to her lips. His breath hitched slightly, the grin vanishing as he lowered himself, slowly, imperceptibly.

A loud clatter broke the spell, Scott scrambling off of her to stand awkwardly on the other side of the room. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" Stiles asked from where he was sprawled over one of Lydia's bags. "No? Ooookay," he skittered backwards, out of the room and out from under the force of Scott's glare.

Scott glanced at her one last time, briefly, apologetically, and left her there on the floor, body suddenly cold from the lack of contact and unfamiliar coils of lust tightening in her stomach. She sat up, her limbs starting to stiffen after the looseness of the fight faded away. "I am so screwed," she said to herself, quietly in the gloom.


End file.
